


Breathe Me -- Zutara Week 2017

by darkelf19



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Burn, Zutara Week 2017
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2018-12-06 03:49:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkelf19/pseuds/darkelf19
Summary: My contribution for Zutara Week 2017. Each theme will be part of a larger story. Slow-burn; hurt/comfort; friendship; fluff and romance to follow.





	1. Fire Lady

**Chapter 1: Fire Lady**

~*~

She stared at the elegant crown; three flames carefully crafted from thin gold. Delicate filigree had been carved into the surface and in the center sat a single flawless ruby. It was beautiful.

"It was my mother's."

Katara jumped, nearly jarring the pedestal in her haste. "I was just-, it was so-, I didn't mean-" she trailed off lamely at Zuko's knowing smirk. Wordlessly he joined her, removing the precious heirloom from the glass case. The sunlight caught the gold as he moved, bringing it to life in a way it couldn't behind the thick glass.

He hesitated a moment, eyes trained on the gold crown, seemingly lost in thought and she knew he was remembering his mother. She touched his arm lightly, bringing him back to her, and offered a small smile. She knew his pain; she understood. He returned her smile, although it didn't quite chase away the ghosts in his eyes, before handing the crown to her.

She cradled the precious heirloom in her hands, knowing it was as important to him as her mother's necklace was to her.

Her fingers brushed over the delicate filigree, noting the fine craftsmanship. Each stroke had been expertly placed to create textures for the light to reflect. She shifted her hands, marveling as light caught in the uneven grooves, creating the illusion of dancing flames in her hands. It was a breathtaking work of art.

She turned slightly, allowing the sunlight to catch the flawless ruby, and the crown came to life. Brilliant reds glistened over gold, sinking into crevices only to burst free moments later. It reminded her of a sunrise, bursting over the horizon in a shocking moment of beauty.

It was truly a crown for a queen.

Suddenly she felt self-conscious. It felt wrong that she, a simple peasant, should be holding such an exquisite jewel in her hands. Peering beneath her lashes, she stole a quick glance at Zuko. He hadn't moved during her careful examination and again wore that far-away look he often wore when he thought about his mother.

She offered him a sad smile, handing the precious heirloom back to him. "She must have looked lovely wearing this. It's beautiful.

Zuko nodded, accepting the crown as he was pulled from his reverie. "She did."

Silence settled between them, but this wasn't the comfortable silence between friends she was accustomed to. Unconsciously her hands tugged at her hair. It was a nervous habit; one she wasn't even aware she had. To Zuko it was endearing.

He had the incredible urge to run his fingers through her hair, to let the silky strands slip through his fingers. He imagined the dark locks pulled into the elaborate style the noblewoman preferred, twisted around his mother's crown. It'd look stunning against the gold and red. Temptation pulled at his fingers, urging him to reach out and pin the crown to her head, to tell her here and now exactly what she meant to him. Instead he ignored the itch, turning to place his mother's crown back in the case with a heavy heart. His finger lingered on the glass a moment, remembering the woman he'd lost, envisioning a future with the woman he'd found.

He blinked, realizing there was something dangling in front of his nose. It smelled of leather and oil and…Katara. Shock jarred him from his thoughts as he realized what it was. Slowly he lifted his head. Katara had moved, now standing before him, her arm outstretched and from her fingers dangled her most prized possession.

He'd held that necklace once before, long ago when he'd stolen it from a young girl. He hadn't known them what it meant to her. If he had he never would have taken it. Zuko knew all too well the importance of a mother's keepsake.

She reached out, taking his hand in hers. The simple contact made him catch his breath and he prayed to Agni she didn't notice. Turning his hand over, she placed the necklace in his hand.

He understood what she was doing. He'd allowed her to inspect his mother's crown, knowing full well that to him it was more that just a crown or heirloom. Like her necklace, it was the last connection to a loved one taken much too soon. It was the memory of a mother's love and a moment of peace and security, before their childhood's had been ripped away from them.

His fingers traced over the carving he'd memorized years ago. Every line, every etching having been seared into his mind in perfect detail. He'd had a lot of time to waste on that old ship.

Zuko suddenly realized with perfect clarity they'd had this conversation before. They'd started it long ago, in a crystal catacomb beneath Ba Sing Se. "The Fire Nation took my mother from me."

"I know." He didn't realize he'd spoken the words out loud until she'd answered him. She gave him a sad smile, parroting the words of comfort he'd offered all those years ago. "I'm sorry, that's something we have in common."

She was in his arms before he could stop himself. For once he didn't second-guess himself, he didn't give his doubts or rules of propriety a chance to stop him, he just reacted. He was suddenly sixteen again, trapped in a crystal prison with the only other person in the world who understood. She knew his pain because it was her pain too, and so he did what he should've done then, what he'd wanted to do but had been too afraid to.

He wrapped his arms around her, a promise that he wouldn't let the Fire Nation hurt her again and cried. Cried for her loss, cried for his; cried because for the first time there was someone who understood what loss was, who understood the soul shaking pain that you never recover from. He cried because she knew that pain, understood the empty place it left inside that could never be filled, and she was far too young to have had to experienced it.

He cried for two young children left alone in the world, hollow and broken and forced to grow up too soon; two young children with a gaping wound no one could see that would never stop bleeding and would never truly heal.

"Her name was Kya. She was…" Katara's voice trembled, her hands fisted in his robes. "Gran-Gran hated her at first. Dad said they threatened to elope so Gran-Gran finally relented and agreed to let them marry." Katara let out a shaky laugh at that and Zuko could only imagine the drama that had ensued. She palmed away her tears.

Zuko kept his hands fisted at his sides. He wanted to pull her back into his arms, to hold her there and tell her it would be ok; but it wouldn't. This wasn't a hurt he could fix. "So your father craved her a necklace."

Katara grinned, eying him knowingly. "It is customary for men to carve women a betrothal necklace in the Water Tribe, as I sure your uncle told you when he spotted you toting my mother's necklace around that old rusty ship of yours," Katara teased.

Zuko's face turned as bright as his robes. "I was-I didn't-it wasn't-dammit Uncle you promised!"

Katara's laugher cut him off. "It turned out that Dad is a great warrior, but a terrible artist. Gran-Gran took pity and gave him her old necklace, the one Master Pakku had carved for her."

"Wait, what? I thought your Gran-Gran married Master Pakku?"

"She did, recently; but they were betrothed before and she ran away." Zuko just stared at her. "Gran-Gran never told anyone and I guess Dad just never asked about the necklace, or if he did Gran-Gran just didn't tell him. Either way, I didn't learn the truth until I met Master Pakku in the North Pole and he recognized the necklace he'd carved years ago."

Zuko looked back to the necklace in his hand, digesting this new information. "So Hakoda didn't carve this for your mother."

"No," Katara confirmed, "but he did carve this." She turned the necklace over in his palm, revealing a simple set of worn characters roughly etched in the back. He'd seen them years before and wondered about them, as they obviously didn't match the craftsmanship displayed on the front of the necklace. Now he knew why.

Katara traced the faded characters lightly, a sad smile once again pulling at her lips. "As long as there is water in the sea, my heart will belong to you."

His breath caught and he glanced at Katara, but her eyes were still fixed on the necklace. He realized she must have been reading the engraving, or at least what it had once said. He wondered how many times she'd sat alone, running her fingers over those words and remembering her parents.

"My mother's name was Ursa and she loved those stupid Ember Island plays. Used to drag us to watch them every summer, especially 'Love Among the Dragons'. It was her favorite."

"Is that how she met…" she trailed off, obviously uncomfortable asking that question, but Zuko could see the curiosity.

"No. They had an arranged marriage. I don't think my mother ever loved him but my father…he loved her."

"Really?" Katara couldn't hide her surprise. Zuko chuckled, wondering if she realized how close she was sitting now. It was nice.

"It wasn't a healthy love. He was always very possessive and controlling. Even as a child I knew it was wrong." Zuko sighed, looking down at Katara's necklace again. He couldn't help the sting of jealously that shot through him, wondering what would it have been like to grow up in a house full of love instead of what he'd experienced. It was no wonder Katara was such a wonderful, loving person. She'd been surrounded by love from the very beginning.

"Zuko?"

He looked up. She was watching him, concern wrinkling her young face. He could see where the wrinkles would deepen with age, could imagine her old and gray like her Gran-Gran with those same caring blue eyes and realized she'd be beautiful even then. To him, she'd always be beautiful.

She reached out, wiping away the tears he hadn't even realized were there. That was the second time she'd touched his scar, the second time he'd ever allowed someone to touch his scar. One day he'd tell her that, he'd tell her everything, but not today. Wordlessly he handed the necklace back to her, watching as she tied it around her neck. Instinctively her fingers went to her throat. He'd seen her do it a thousand times.

"Won't you miss it?"

She frowned, giving him a curious look. "What?"

"Your necklace, I mean-well someday…that is-" He was stammering like an idiot and he knew it. It'd started off as a simple question. He really had been curious what she would do without her mother's necklace; to him it and her were inseparable, but he hadn't thought it all the way through and the thought of her wearing another's necklace made his insides churn unpleasantly

Katara smiled gently. "It's an heirloom now." She explained, her fingers fondly tracing the carving. "One day, I'll give it to my daughter, and she'll pass it to hers and so on. Gran-Gran broke the rules and started a new tradition."

"So, no one will ever carve you a necklace?" The thought made him feel conflicted. She should have her own necklace. It was tradition.

"Did your father make your mother her crown, or did she inherit it?"

Zuko looked away, suddenly feeling nervous. "Uh, it's the Fire Lady's crown actually. He stole it when they were married. Grandfather was furious because she was only a princess not Fire Lady, but he didn't take it back, and uncle always said she looked lovely in it so…"

"She wasn't Fire Lady?"

"Uh, no. Not officially. She vanished before father was crowned Fire Lord. Uncle was supposed to inherit the throne after grandfather's death but somehow father stole it instead. I still don't know all the details."

They sat in silence, Katara looking at the crown thoughtfully. Finally she looked back at him, a smile on her lips. "And one day your wife will wear your mother's crown, like my daughter will wear my mothers necklace."

He blinked. "I-…I guess so." He wondered how she could say such things so easily.

"Our mother's will live on, through us." She squeezed his hand gently, before standing. He watched as she smoothed her skirts, floored by her simple statement. She'd always had that effect on him though. "You coming?"

He shook his head. "No, not yet. I just need…"

"A moment."

He nodded. She gave him another one of her sad smiles, and nodded. She understood that too; sometimes the pain required just a little alone time, even time away from your best friend.

He watched her leave, her words replaying in his head. His mother's crown, no, not just his mother's crown anymore. She was right. One day it would belong to his wife. "Maybe, it can be yours one day," he said to the empty room.


	2. Underwater

"You work entirely too hard Fire Lord."

He smiled at the reprimand, knowing who it was without looking. Of course, he'd know that voice anywhere but that wasn't the point. He knew who it was simply because she was there. No one else was brave enough to storm his office demanding his attention when he was buried beneath land contracts, peace treaties and past-due budgets. He wasn't surprised though. At fourteen she'd saved the world, single-handily taking down the greatest firebender of their generation and helped usher in a new era of peace between the nations. What was one grumpy Fire Lord compared to all that?

She plucked the quill from his fingers and Zuko resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get any more work done today. Leaning back in his chair, he shot her an accusatory look. "This is exactly why my advisors think you're a bad influence."

Katara smiled conspicuously. "They're right. It's all part of my master plan to overthrow the Fire Nation."

Zuko's retort died on his lips. Katara was smiling, her banter playful, and on the surface everything seemed ok, but Zuko had seen this mask before. He looked again. This time he saw what she was trying to hide; her postures was stiff and uninviting and her eyes were a lifeless gray he could remember seeing only once before. He frowned realizing something was wrong. "Katara, what is it?" He was shocked when her smile grew, even as tears filled her eyes. "Katara?!"

"I never could hide anything from you, wonder why that is…" she trailed off looking at him thoughtfully. "Walk with me?" She didn't wait for his response.

He simply stared for a moment, eyes unfocused as he tried to piece the unspoken conversation together with little luck. Something was clearly upsetting her, and there was apparently only one way to get answers. He sprinted after Katara without looking back, waving his guards aside as he raced after her.

He found her in the garden. She stood beneath an all too familiar willow, watching turtleducks quack in the fading sunlight, offsetting the bagerfrogs croaking a dusk song for the fireflies to wake to.

"Katara-"

"Gran-Gran's…gone."

Zuko froze. He knew he should say something but the words wouldn't come. Years of public speaking and rules of etiquette should have provided him with something, yet his throat felt like it was full of sand and no words would come. He'd only met the old woman a handful of times, and she'd made it quite clear she did not like him. Not that he could blame her. Their first meeting had been less than ideal and even eventually joining the winning team to save the world wasn't enough to earn Kanna's immediate forgiveness. Honestly, he'd respected her for that.

And now she was gone.

Somehow he forced his body to move. He felt like one of his father's now-rusted, abandoned, war machines, certain his joints must've sounded like nosily grinding gears as he closed the gap between them. For the second time in a week he ignored his royal upbringing in favor of following his heart; something Katara had taught him to do during their time together so many years ago.

She sank into his arms gratefully, hands fisting in his shirt. Like before he offered no words of comfort, for there were no words that could soothe this pain. Instead he simply held her while she cried, and though she didn't know it he cried with her, for her. Silent tears rolling down his cheeks for the second mother she'd lost.

Sunset gave way to moonrise, and her tears subsided with the croaking of the bager-frogs. Still, she didn't move from his arms and he was selfish enough to want her to stay. He couldn't cure he pain, but he could at least offer her this physical comfort, to remind her that she wasn't alone. He was here; he would always be here, as long as she wanted him to be.

Fireflies blinked lazily around them. Slowly her breathing returned to normal, her breath no longer ragged and hitched as it had been for what seemed like hours now. He continued to rub soothing circles against her back, like his mother had done for him as a child when he was upset. It'd always calmed him and as far as he could tell, it had a similar effect on her.

Katara licked her lips, swallowing roughly. Her throat felt dry now and she considered asking Zuko to break into his stash of spiced wine. Instead she closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body, the comforting touch of his hands.

Sometimes life was just too real, too raw, and it needed a momentary distraction. Feeling the tears building again, she moved her hands, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Dance with me."

"What?"

She smiled at the incredulous tone to his voice. "Gran-gran told me that life will make you want to cry, that it will try to drag you to your knees and that's when you have to dance. She left the man she loved because society was wrong, she traveled the world alone in a time when that was forbidden, she found love again and lost it, she raised a son on her own, and then her grandchildren on her own, finally found love again and now she's gone." Katara's voice broke and it took her a moment to continue. "Life tried to break her, sometimes it came close, and it certainly made her cry, but she always remembered how to dance. No matter what, she danced. I…"

Zuko didn't let her finish. Sweeping her into his arms he pulled her into a clumsy rhythm, waiting for Katara to find her footing. This wasn't a formal dance he'd been trained in a thousand times, or the Dancing Dragon she loved to tease him about; this was sorrow and life, a broken heart finding its strength again under the moonlight. This was a drowning person finding a way to breath underwater.

Soft moonlight spilled over the waterbender in his arms, bringing her to life in a way sunlight never could. It took his breath away. Under Yue's sorrowful gaze he clung to the woman he loved, swaying gently through the night.


	3. Steamy

She pulled the heavy cloak tighter around her shoulders. “Tell me again why we’re sitting out here, on the side of a mountain, in the middle of the night, in the cold?”

“It’s a surprise. Here, drink this.”

Katara frowned, accepting the now steaming cup of tea. Cradling it in her hands, she turned her attention back to the starlit sky. Zuko was talking, but her attention was fixed on the stars overhead, watching, wondering.

He stopped mid-sentence, realizing she wasn’t listening. Her tea remained untouched, growing cold in the night. She’d been like this for weeks now and a small, selfish part of Zuko wondered if he’d ever see her smile again. He hated himself for it.

Zuko knew she was grieving for her grandmother. He was grieving too, for his best friend. He hated seeing her like this. At first he’d held her, danced with her as she’d requested and he’d foolishly thought that maybe it’d be enough to carry her through. Since that night though, she’d become withdrawn and silent. Day by day he watched helplessly as the fierce, caring woman he loved disappeared before his eyes. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help her with this pain. She was drowning in her sorrow and he couldn’t do anything to ease her suffering. It hurt.

He followed her gaze, knowing where it would lead. She was looking at the sky again. She’d been doing that every night since Gran-Gran’s death; a solemn and silent figure bathed in starlight. She’d look beautiful if she weren’t cloaked in tragedy. He didn’t know the connection, but something about the sky was important to her. It was the reason he brought her out here tonight, to this cold, lonely mountainside. Out here, far away from the bright fires of the palace city, where the stars burned brightly against the inky darkness.

“What are you looking for?” he whispered, unsure if she even heard him in her grief; unsure if he even wanted her to answer him. Perhaps there was nothing and she was simply staring into space, lost in her grief, waiting to burn out and be swallowed by the darkness like the stars she’d taken to watching every night. The thought hit him like Azula’s lightning once had and for a moment he couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, past the paralyzing dread spreading through him. He couldn’t lose her too.

“The lights.” Her voice is so soft, so unexpected, that he nearly missed it over the howl of the mountain wind.

“Lights?” He pressed for an answer, hoping this would become an actual conversation instead of the few meager sentences he’d managed to drag from her lips these past weeks. She nodded, her eyes never leaving the sky. He missed those blue eyes. He missed a lot of things now. He’d never realized it was possible to be so close to and so far from someone at the same time. Zuko sighed, realizing she wasn’t going to offer any further conversation. He watched her, watching the stars, eyes searching for something that she never found. Finally he pulled his eyes away, looking for the lights she sought. He saw the stars, the moon, but nothing else. He tried again. “I don’t see anything.”

This time it was Katara that sighed. It carried the burden of unresolved grief as her finger unconsciously sought her mother’s necklace. “Neither do I.”

Silence enveloped them once again. This time Zuko had nothing to break it, so he said nothing. Her answers only begot more questions and he didn’t know what to do. Instead he focused on the one thing he could control, the fire.

He’d come prepared, a habit from his many years with Uncle; or rather a habit picked up after many years of Uncle’s lectures of him not being prepared. The fire flared brightly as he added a few logs and he was pleased to see Katara’s eyes on him. She’d moved closer to the fire while he wasn’t looking, her cloak now firmly clutched in her hands as she tried unsuccessfully to hide her shivering. Normally he would’ve teased her about not being able to take the cold, like she’d so often teased him, but not tonight. Instead he reached into his bag, pulling out a heavy wool blanket. Her eyes lit up, a smile pulling at her lips for the first time in weeks. Channeling his bending he warmed the blanket before wrapping it around her shoulders.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, feeling very pleased with himself and reached into his pack for his own blanket. The pack was empty. His smile fell into a confused frown. “Oh no…” Rather foolishly he peered into the obviously empty bag. “I couldn’t have-”

“Zuko?”

“Of all the stupid-”

“Zuko.”

He sighed, accepting defeat. His plan to cheer Katara had already gone so wonderfully wrong; he supposed she wouldn’t mind having to leave early anyway. “I forgot my blanket.” 

Katara blinked, simply staring at him. “Are you cold?”

He grumbled, rubbing his arms absently. “No, I’m fine.”

She gave him a look that clearly said she didn’t believe him. If he was truthful, he was cold. He could use his bending to keep him warm, but he needed something to keep the heat in, like a blanket. Without something to reflect the heat back to him, he’d just be wasting energy against a chilly mountain wind he couldn’t beat. 

He was still berating himself for his mistake when something warm fell across his shoulders. He’d barely time to register it before a new, warm weight settled against his side.

“Better?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The last time they’d been this close was the night they’d danced through their grief under the moonlight. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the warmth of her body until now.

Katara finished adjusting the blanket around them both and rested her head against his shoulder. She shivered. Zuko used it as an excuse to pull her even closer, channeling his bending to create pleasant warmth beneath their blanket cocoon.  A happy sigh escaped Katara’s lips as she instinctively curled against him. Zuko decided it made the disastrous outing worth it.

Warm again, she’d turned her attention back to the stars. Zuko contemplated what to do next. He’d hoped that bringing her out here where the stars were brightest, would offer her some sort of closure. So far, that hadn’t happened. He didn’t know what else to do, what else he could do. He studied her profile, the tilt of her chin, the shape of her nose, and the blue of her eyes like it was the last time he was ever going to see them. It just might be. He knew what he had to do, he just didn’t know if he could. Ashamed of his weakness he looked away, searching for any other option. “Tell me how I can help.”

“Zuko-”

“I know, you just need time, but still…I hate seeing you like this, knowing there’s nothing I can do. I just feel so…helpless.” He admitted, refusing to meet her gaze. “I would do anything for you.” He admitted quietly.

“I know. Just…just be here, beside me. That’s enough.”

He blinked, stunned at the sudden warmth against his hand, the slight pressure of her fingers entwining with his. “You...you, want to stay here…with me?”

Katara smiled. “Where else would I go?”

He didn’t want to say it. Agni, he didn’t want to, but he had to. It’s what she needed most right now. “Home,” he choked out, his voice far more strained than he’d intended. “Back to your tribe, to your…to family,” he finished softly.

She regarded him thoughtfully, her eyes piercing him in that way that he was certain allowed her to look right into his soul. One of these times he’d be brave enough to ask her what she saw, but not today. Finally she looked away, turning her eyes back to the stars. “I’m the Water Tribe ambassador. My place is here.”

He winced at the reprimand in her voice. “I know. I just…if you want to leave-”

“I can see the lights Zuko.”

“The lights,” he repeated dumbly. He still didn’t know the significance, but at least one fear had been quelled this night; she wasn’t going to leave him. Now if only-

“The lights.” She reiterated, lifting his chin towards the sky. Bands of color wove across the dark, shifting in hue and intensity before his eyes. Thousands of sparkling stars twinkled in and out of existence as the bands of color passed over them.

“The auroras,” he breathed in wonder. “That’s what you’ve been looking for? Why?”

“According to Water Tribe legend, when we die we join our ancestors in the lights.” Katara’s hand tightened its hold on his. Her voice was heavy with emotion when she spoke. “You found her Zuko. Thank you.”

He wrapped his arms around her then, pulling her tight against his chest. In silence they watched the auroras dance their way through the night. He imagined Gran-Gran’s spirit dancing through the stars like she had in life. It brought a smile to his face, even as his tears escaped unnoticed.  

Their fingers slipped over each other’s in light caresses as they watched the auroras slowly begin to fade into the bright pinks and purples of sunrise. One by one the stars disappeared, replaced by rich golden oranges and reds that exploded across the sky.

Zuko looked down at the waterbender in his arms, startled to meet her eyes. He’d expected her to be watching the sky like she had for weeks, not him. She gave him a tired smile, squeezing his hand gently. “It’s a new day.”

He nodded, sensing she meant more than the obvious.


	4. Icarus (revised)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised 3/31/18. New ending!

She'd never seen him so dejected. Curled in upon himself, he resembled the sad Armadillo-lions she'd seen in the Earth Kingdom zoo so many years ago. Bleary eyes stared emptily into nothing and she knew he was lost to her. The Zuko she knew was gone, buried beneath whatever hurt his evil father had drudged up this time and in his place sat this lost, angry soul she'd battled with many times before.

The nurturer in her wanted to pull him into her arms and cradle him like the lost child he was, but the healer in her understood this was a wound she could not fix. Past experience told her he would want to be alone for a while, but she couldn't leave, not this time. Something nagged at her, urging her to stay.

Wordlessly she sat beside him, making sure to leave a few feet between them; close enough that he could reach her if he wanted, but far enough to avoid accidental contact. He remained silent, eyes unfocused on some distant thing. She wondered if he even knew she was there.

Silently she cursed Ozai, wishing – not for the first time – that Aang had killed the former Fire Lord. The familiar pang of guilt quickly followed. She knew killing Ozai would have killed Aang; would have destroyed everything he believed in and the last piece of innocence he'd miraculously managed to cling to despite everything he'd suffered. He would have saved the world, only to lose himself in the process.

She also knew now, though Zuko would fiercely deny it, that it would have killed Zuko too. As terrible as Ozai was, he was Zuko's father and that still meant something to Zuko. Despite everything his father had put him through, Zuko still sought his approval, his affection. Like a wounded puppy, he returned to his abuser always hopeful that the next time would be different; that the next time the hand that had hurt in the past would instead be gentle, and every time he left with a new wound.

It drove Katara mad.

They'd fought many times, pushing their friendship to the breaking point, and still, she'd never received an answer she could understand as to why he insisted on seeing that awful man. She didn't think she ever would. Instead, she simply resigned herself to being there for him in these dark moments, to be a light to draw him out of himself.

Idly, she pulled at the water's edge, creating shapes for the turtle-ducks to investigate. They happily obliged, quacking their displeasure at the foreign invader. Soon she was surrounded by an angry mob of Fire Nation turtle-ducks, the bravest taking small nips out of her water creations.

"Don't antagonize them."

Zuko's quiet command drew her attention away from the mock battle and she let her army drown, turning her attention to the man at her side. He looked as morose as ever after one of his father's visits, but there was a haunted look in his eye she hadn't seen before. Worry made her forget her reason for leaving Zuko personal space, her hand instinctively brushing his scared cheek like so many times before. It was a mistake.

He flinched like she'd struck him; drawing away quickly. Katara frowned, her stomach dropping. This was new. This was not welcome.

He was normally moody after one of his father's visits; sometimes angrier, sometimes more sad, but he always welcomed her company and her touch. She thought he secretly enjoyed it. She did. It'd become a strange ritual for them, a way to chase away the ghosts of his father.

But this time he'd rejected her touch; rejected her. It hurt.

She withdrew, her hand falling heavily into her lap, her emotions now guarded too. Silently she cursed Ozai for whatever he'd said this time; cursed him for a lifetime of wrongs to his son.

Silence settled heavily between them, thick and uncomfortable. She could hear Zuko breathing unsteadily, struggling to control his breath. Something akin to a sob would escape every so often before he could stop it, and his slow measured breaths would begin again as he struggled to control whatever demon his father had unleashed.

Whatever he'd done this time had damn near broken Zuko. True, he wasn't sobbing and screaming the way Azula had been, but it was there nonetheless. She saw it in the rigid set of his shoulders and clenched fists, heard it in the desperate gasps of breath and whispered fire-breathing exercises like they were a prayer. She contemplated finding Iroh, but she was afraid to leave him alone. Everything about Zuko radiated frailty.

She didn't know what to do.

Words would not reach him. Touch made him withdraw even further from her. What could she do? He was lost, drowning in his pain and all she could do was watch. Agony coiled within her, turning her stomach unpleasantly. Not since her mother's death had she felt so useless; so weak and so utterly helpless.

She was four years old again; barely tall enough to see over the blackened husk that was all that remained of her once beautiful mother. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the air, choking her. With horror, she realized she was suffocating on her mother. She'd screamed then; her small four-year-old voice fraught with pain and fear and everything a child should never know. Sometimes she wondered if she'd ever stop screaming. Her throat grew tight, the familiar burn of tears in her eyes. Her fingers moved to the familiar carving at her throat, reveling in the cool texture.

It was surreal how a single moment could live within you forever.

She jumped at his touch.

This time it was him who looked abashed, his hand quickly withdrawing. She brushed her hand over her now dry cheek realizing he must have seen her tears, wiped them away as he had a hundred times before. Even in his darkest moment, he'd been concerned for her. Her heart fluttered.

"I'm sorry. I should go-" He started to rise and she reached towards him instinctively.

"No! Stay…please?"

He nodded, slowly settling back to his knees. He looked uncomfortable, ready to flee at a moment's notice. Katara realized she would have to tread very carefully.

"I was…" she trailed off trying to find the words. Unconsciously her fingers found her mother's necklace out of habit. Zuko noticed.

"Your mother," he whispered, nodding towards her.

She nodded, confused. "How-?"

"You're touching her necklace. You always do that when you're thinking about her."

Katara stared, her fingers slowly dropping from her throat. "I do?"

Zuko nodded. "It's…" _Endearing_. "Ok. You miss her." He looked like he wanted to offer more, but turned his attention back to the turtle-ducks.

Realizing she was losing him again, Katara tried a new approach. "The gardens are in full bloom. Walk with me?" He remained silent, fixated on the horizon before him. She sighed, drawing her knees to her chest. Quietly she sat beside him, watching the turtle-ducks swim and failing to think of any way to reach her friend. Maybe she really was useless.

"What do you see?"

She blinked. Turning, she looked at Zuko but he hadn't moved. She frowned; convinced she'd imagined it when he repeated the question. He still wasn't looking at her, his gaze fixed on some unseen point. It was probably for the best. Even from here his gaze was intense, fierce. His posture was tense again, agitation clear in the twitch of his fingers. Sitting up straight she considered his question, unsure exactly what he was asking. Either way, she was certain to answer it incorrectly, but if she could just get him talking… "I see you Zuko."

That was not the correct answer.

"NO!" He shouted. Jumping to his feet he began to pace. "You see what he wanted you to see, what he wanted the world to see. He left it in plain sight for everyone-"

"Zuko!" She forced him to look at her, her hands holding his head firmly in place. He refused to meet her eyes though. Tears streamed from his good eye, pooling where her thumb pressed against his face. She rested her forehead against his. "I see you," she whispered not knowing what else to say. She was desperate to reach him, to heal whatever hurt his father had caused, but she was flying blind.

Zuko had withdrawn again, though this time he didn't push her away. Katara seriously considered leaving him there, she suspected he wouldn't even realize she'd gone and paying Ozai a visit. She hadn't felt this kind of murderous rage for someone since she'd last seen Yon Rha. Back then, when she'd had Yon Rha on his knees and she'd been ready to kill the man who'd murdered her mother when she'd been ready to give in to all her anger and rage and pain, Aang's plea had pulled her back from the abyss. Instead of revenge, she'd found emptiness and unresolved pain. She was growing accustomed to it.

This, however, was different. This rage, this pain, was not her own, but for a friend. This was righteous anger that demanded resolution and she could easily provide it. Tonight was a full moon and she was a bloodbender. She could do what Aang could not.

She wondered for the umpteenth time since she'd found him huddled next to his mother's turtle-duck pond what had happened during his visit with that horrible man.

"I'm just like him."

"Who?"

"My father."

"What?! Is that what he said? Zuko! Don't believe that for a minute! You're nothing like that monster, he's-"

"Monster. That's what he made me."

"Zuko, that's not-"

He grabbed her hand painfully tight, pressing it into the uneven scared flesh on his face. "He made me a monster."

She stared into his eyes, vivid gold and too much like fire for her comfort just now. Too many emotions burned in them, tumbling from view faster than she could place a name to. This was chaos. It frightened her. She frowned, confusion pulling her eyebrows down as she tried to piece together the puzzle he offered her. And sickeningly, it came together. Something akin to lead settled in her stomach, her eyes growing wide in horror as she realized what he'd confessed.

The answer to the question she'd never asked was even more horrifying than she could ever imagine.

Her hands shook badly where they still cupped his face and now Zuko suddenly looked horrified. He released her wrists, staring at the ugly red prints his fingers had left. Tomorrow they would be bruises. "Sorry." The whisper was so faint she nearly missed it. "I'm sorry." This time was louder, though his voice cracked badly. "Monster. I am a-"

She silenced him with a kiss.

Lips pressed against the burned flesh, she let her tears fall. "You're not a monster Zuko. You're nothing like him. Nothing."

"I am. I would have looked just like him if not for this scar. I think…sometimes I think it's the only good thing he ever gave me."

"Good?"

"If he hadn't…" _burned me_ , "…banished me; if I hadn't traveled the world with Uncle or lived as a refugee or met any of you, I would've become him. In the end, I'm no different from him Katara. I'm tainted. My blood is tainted. What if I become like him? Agni. What if my children become like…" he trailed off, true horror seizing his words.

She cupped his face, drawing his forehead against hers. "You are not your father. You are kind and honest and honorable and your children will never doubt their father loves them, lives for them."

"How can you say that?"

"Because Zuko, I know you."

He stared at her; eyes still molten gold and chaos. These visits with Ozai were killing him. Each visit burned away a little more of his goodness, his sanity. Like Azula, he was falling. She worried one of these times she wasn't going to be able to catch him before he hit the ground and shattered.

She brushed her fingers over his scarred cheek and he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. His hand closed over hers, holding her hand there. Katara sighed, finally relaxing as they fell into their old habit. Comforting each other's pain was a familiar tradition and tonight she needed his touch as much as he needed hers.

Now, face-to-face, Katara realized that tonight their normal tradition of hugs and cuddles wouldn't be enough. Tonight they needed something more; she needed something more. Before doubts could stop her, she leaned forward and pressed her lips softly against his in their first proper kiss.


	5. Modern Times

He was late. She frowned at the now cold dumplings and rice. The mochi had turned soggy, as had the tarts in the humid summer heat and the komodo chicken smelled questionable. At least the sea soup still looked salvageable. All in all,hercarefully planned picnic was turning into a failure. 

With a sigh, Katara poured herself a glass of plum wine. So far their fledgling romance had been less than successful; little more than a series of failed dates and interrupted moments. That was the problem with dating men in power; their time was never their own.

Despite his best intentions, Zuko’s time was frequently flitted away by meetings, paperwork, and other politics. Not that her role as Ambassador to the Water Tribes left her much free time either. Spontaneity had been abandoned for scheduled dates that were frequently rescheduled anyway. It was all very modern and left little room for romance. 

Which is why she’d specifically scheduled this date three weeks in advance with strict warnings to any that dared to interfere. Everything had been going exactly to plan…until Zuko failed to show up. 

No doubt he’d been roped into another impromptu meeting with one of the visiting dignitaries - the Earth Kingdom delegates did love to talk - or perhaps one of the Fire Nation nobles had cornered him with another contract that no one considered urgent but still had to be signed immediately. Meanwhile, her afternoon was ruined, her lunch spoiled and once again she was disappointed in Zuko, be it his fault or not. 

She didn’t like being disappointed in Zuko. It drudged up too many unpleasant memories; unbidden memories of crystal catacombs and almost redemption, memories of unbridled fear, loss, and betrayal - they all stemmed from Zuko. Though she’d forgiven him, she had never forgotten, and sometimes – unintentionally - those memories would rise along with all the unpleasant feelings that accompanied them. Of course, she understood now why he’d betrayed them, betrayed her, but at the time his actions had been inconceivable to her.

Sometimes they still were. She doubted she would ever understand why he gave so much of himself to a father that clearly despised him or a sister that had tried to murder him. Why he worked himself half to death for a country that had branded him a traitor and nobles who sought to depose him. 

Too many years in his father’s shadow, belittled and hated, had warped him. Now, even as a young man, a young king, he desperately sought acceptance from those around him. He tried to hide it but she knew him well enough to see through his mask. More than anything, Zuko wanted to be loved; to believe he was worthy of being loved. 

Despite her best efforts, she’d been unable to heal the deepest wounds Ozai had left on his son. To deprive a child of all affection, twisting the very nature of paternal love into a weapon to wield against your own flesh and blood, revealed a depravity in Ozai she hadn’t thought possible in anyone. Years later Zuko still had trouble accepting that love could simply be given, the lesson that love must be earned having been viciously ingrained in him.

Ozai wasn’t the only one to blame though; Ursa had played her part. Katara didn’t know all the details, but from what Zuko had told her, it seemed Ursa had left of her own free will. She couldn’t fathom what could convince a mother to abandon her children to a monster like Ozai and wanted to believe it was with good reason; still, she couldn’t quite find it in her heart to forgive the woman. Not when it had cost Zuko so dearly. 

If Ursa stayed, at least Zuko would have known the love of one parent, would have had one person to nurture him through his turbulent childhood. Instead, he’d found himself suddenly alone, surrounded by darkness and flames, forced to grow up much too soon. Zuko had only spoken briefly about his father’s “training” sessions and the punishments for failing to meet his high expectations. Katara now knew the Fire Nation treated their war prisoners better than Ozai treated his own children. He’d warped them, torturing both his children to mold them into weapons that he pitted against each other and the world. 

Ozai had unintentionally molded her into a weapon as well. The war that had stolen her mother from her had also forged her. Like the artic-wolf pups of her homeland, she’d sharpened her claws on her prey, clawing her way through the ranks of Fire Nation soldiers; and like any predator, she’d developed a taste for the hunt. Usually, it was the unbridled satisfaction of watching her opponent fall. The rush of power was intoxicating. Sometimes though, it was darker. Sometimes the horrors of everything she’d been through seized her, demanding vengeance and bloodlust flooded every inch of her soul, sending her thoughts spiraling in a twisted desire to test the limits of herbloodbending. 

Until she’d stared into Yon Rha’s eyes - or the man she’d thought was him - she’d never wanted to give into that darkness though. Pain buried beneath years of silence had exploded within her, wrapping her in acute suffering as sharp as it’d been the day she’d discovered her mother’s smoldering corpse. She’d seized his pulse, savored the terror in his eyes as she’d slowly began to squeeze, severing the blood supply to his heart. The erratic thumping, a panicked death drum, had been a sweet music; a salve to the wound she’d worn for years.

But it hadn’t been him. It hadn’t been Yon Rha. 

The sickening realization of what she’d almost done, what she’d almost become, had crashed into her then and she’d fled the room before the weight of her disgust caused her legs to give out too. She’d barely made it out of the room before she hurled. Zuko had witnessed everything. He’d never said a word about it and she’d been too ashamed to bring it up. When they’d found the real Yon Rha, despite all her pain and anger, she’d refused to fall into that darkness again. In the end, instead of justice or closure, she’d found some unpleasant truths about herself on that trip. Truths she’d been running from for years.

She closed her eyes, vividly recalling the surge of blood, the pounding heartbeat that had stood just behind her that night. She’d had no need to turn around; his pulse betrayed him as easily as the Captain’s had. Zuko had been afraid of her. 

Just as Aang and Sokka had been when she’d first used herbloodbending. It hadn’t mattered then that it’d been to save their lives, to stop Hama from killing them; she’d seen the fear in their eyes. It’d matched her own disgust and she’d easily agreed to Aang’s promised to never usebloodbendingagain. She’d never wanted that particular skill in the first place. 

What, she wondered, would Aang have done that night when she gave into her bloodlust and nearly killed a man withbloodbending? What would he say if she’d admitted she’d wanted to kill Yon Rha? Could he have forgiven her? Perhaps, but she knew he would’ve forever afterlookedat her with that wounded look in eyes.

Her glass paused halfway to her lips, an unpleasant weight settling in her stomach. She’d never asked Zuko about that night, never considered his feelings as she’d run as fast as she could from her own. They hadn’t even been friends then, barely even allies, and he’d seen her at her worst. 

She hadn’t used herbloodbendingin years, but that didn’t mean the temptation wasn’t there. That darkness still lurked just beneath her skin; an itch always waiting to be scratched and Ozai presented a tempting target. If she slippedagain,if this time she gave into that darkness, could Zuko forgive her? Or would he flee from her like she knew Aang would? Could she forgive herself? Would she want to, or would she embrace the feeling of Ozai’s blood bending to her will? Part of her admitted she might, even if it meant becoming a monster like Hama.

It seemed Ozai was skilled in making monsters.

Katara downed the rest of her glass in a single gulp. Thoughts like these were dangerous. All they ever did was darken her mood, pushing her down a path she had no desire to walk, and Agni knew Zuko was somber enough for them both. 

She considered abandoning her little picnic, retreating from the summer heat in favor of catching up on her paperwork. There never was enough time to get ahead of the treaties, schedules and other documents drowning her desk. With a sigh, she poured another glass deciding she deserved this impromptu vacation sans Zuko if need be.

Her third glass was enjoyed between bites of cold dumplings and rice. She was certain it would’ve tasted delicious hours ago, still hot and fresh from the kitchen. Even so, she was hungry and it was pointless to let the food go to waste just because her boyfriend had stood her up, again. It was starting to feel a little too familiar. Naturally, a fourth glass was needed to ease that hurt.

Pleasantly tipsy now, she turned her attention west. The sun had nearly vanished beneath the horizon now, the vivid reds and oranges of a Fire Nation sunset bleeding into the now indigo night. One by onefirefliesblinked into life, turning the darkening garden into a reflection of the brilliant starlit sky. 

Moved by nature’s beauty, and a bottle of plum wine, Katara staggered to her feet, swaying in the moonlight like Gran-Gran had taught her. The badger-toads croaks faded into the rhythmic drums of her people, the cicadas and turtle-ducks became the voices of her tribe and Katara lost herself in the ancient songs and dances of her people. It didn’t matter that she was alone, thousands of miles from her homeland; they were with her in her heart. 

The copious amounts of alcohol she’d ingested made her movements jarring, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. What should’ve been a fluidwaterbendingform ended with her flat on her back staring at thestars.Breathless she smiled, imaging Gran-Gran and her mother laughing at her fondly. 

She missed them.

The stone was cool beneath her fingers and she laughed out loud. Zuko was right; it was instinct now. She couldn’t think of her mother and not touch her necklace. Although she’d told Zuko that one day she would pass her mother’s necklace onto her daughter, Katara wasn’t sure that she could. Through the years it’d become more than just a necklace; it’d become a lifeline, the last physical connection she had with her mother. That strip of leather and stone had become integral to her being. Without it, she felt incomplete. 

It was one of the reasons she’d rejected Aang’s necklace. She knew it was the same reason she’d reject Zuko’s if he ever offered one. Deep down she knew she’d never wear another necklace. 

Tears blurred her view of the sky. She let them fall freely, thinking of the mother she’d lost far too young and of the wound it’d left that refused to ever fully heal. She wept for the child that died that day and for the unknowing soldier that rose from her ashes. The stone bit into her palm as she gazed skyward. Although she couldn’t see the auroras here in the city, she knew they were there, and so was Gran-Gran; but she could see the stars. To her, they’d already become a substitute for the auroras. Somehow it seemed fitting. Gran-Gran had always shone so brilliantly. She thought of, of home, of her father and brother and friends she hadn’t seen in years. She thought about Aang, about what could’ve been, what had been and what she’d learned. She thought about Zuko, what she wanted, what she needed, and what she wouldn’t do again. 

Time passed. Exhausted, emotionally and physically, she sat up and scrubbed the tears from her eyes. Tomorrow was a busy day. The Earth King’s delegates had crammed several meetings in with her before they sailed home tomorrow afternoon, so her morning was booked. She preferred dealing with the crafty ambassadors with a full night’s rest but that was no longer an option. Still, she should at least try to get a few hours of sleep. Besides, it’d gotten cold out. 

She didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until he draped his cloak around her shoulders. Startled, she turned just as Zuko planted a soft kiss on her cheek. “You’re late,” she grumbled.

“You’re drunk.” It wasn’t an apology, but he at least had the decency to look guilty.

She tilted her chin, trying her best to look haughty. “Yes, I am.”

“Katara,” he sighed. “The meeting ran late, then the Earth Kingdom delegates needed to discuss-”

“Stop.” She raised a hand cutting off any further excuses. “Just, stop. Zuko, I’ve been waiting for hours. Just like last time, and the time before and the time before that. I understand things come up, but you have to at least make an attempt or this thing between us, is never going to work. I refused to be second to Aang, what makes you think I’d settle being second for you?”

“I don’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking far younger than any king had a right to be. “I just…I’m not…” He huffed, clearly annoyed with himself. “I’ve never been good at this kind of stuff.”

“Conversation?” 

“Relationships. Haven’t exactly had many good examples in my life.”

Katara smiled despite wanting to remain irritated at him. He was impossibly hopeless. It was endearing. Or maybe she was just drunker than she thought. Reaching out, she let her fingers trail over his scar. “I know you’re trying. You’re giving so much of yourself to everyone else, just don’t forget I need a little bit of your time too, ok Zuko?”

His hand closed over hers, eyes sliding shut as he nodded wordlessly. He frowned. “You’re freezing.”

“Watertribe, remember? Grew up on a block of ice as you once put it. I’m fine.”

“Tundra,not ice, as you corrected me; and you wore furs to stay warm, not a few layers of silk. “You waited all afternoon, for me?” His voice was quiet, heavy with guilt.

Katara shrugged, attempting to pull her hands away but Zuko refused to let go, already channeling his bending into warming her. It wasn’t necessary, but Katara appreciated the gesture and it did feel nice. Combined with the wine, it was a very pleasant feeling indeed. “You might’ve been running late.”

Zuko looked around at the remnants of the spoiled picnic. “Mochi? And is that komodo chicken and dumplings?”

“Mmmm. Your favorites right?”

He nodded, his thumbs absently caressing her hands as he continued to warm them, although he didn’t understand why she was allowing it. She had every right to be furious with him; he’d ruined everything, again. This wasn’t the first time he’d missed their date. Sadly, he’d started making a habit of it, ridiculous really, as he’d rather have been with Katara than the ambassadors or noblemen who frequently demanded his attention. It was the price of his crown. With privilege came certain obligations, often leaving little time to pursue his desires. 

The last tendrils of sunlight had slipped beneath the horizon before he’d finally managed to appease the verbose ambassador. He’d quickly slipped from the room before the man could make any further demands of him, and had bee-lined straight for Katara’s office, desperately thinking of any excuse that might’ve saved him from her icy wrath. Her office had been dark, paperwork still untouched. He’d checked her rooms next, only for her servants to inform him she’d been gone all afternoon. Until that moment, he’d never considered she might’ve still been waiting for him.

He hadn’t known what he would do if he’d found her still waiting in the garden. He’d almost convinced himself it was more likely she’d hopped the first freighter back to the South Pole; then he’d seen her dancing under the stars.Inthat moment Zuko had realized two undeniable truths: Katara was the most beautiful woman in the world and he was the worst boyfriend ever. 

She’d waited for him in the sweltering humidity of Fire Nation summer through the plummeting temperatures of dusk, even as the sun set taking the warmth of the day with it, leaving only unpleasant cool dampness. No one had ever done something like that for him before, except Uncle. No one had ever cared enough to. He dropped his head, not that it did him any good. His hair was still firmly secured in the damn crown that had caused this mess with all its constant obligations and demands on his time, not even a single stray strand fell out of place to cover his face. 

He flinched as she pulled her hands from his. Though not unexpected, it hurt all the same. He hated fighting with Katara, hatedeven morewhen he was the cause of those fights. He couldn’t stand seeing the disappointment in her eyes. He was tired of failing her, of failing everyone. No matter how hard he tried it was never enough. He was never enough.

The slip of her fingers against his cheek made his breath catch. Stunned he lifted his head. She was still there, watching him with those blue eyes he’d lost himself in years ago. 

“Zuko.”

His mouth twitched the corner lifting into an imperceptible smile at the scolding tone in her voice. Apparently, drunken Katara had less patience for his self-pity than her usual self. Truthfully, he didn’t understand why she put up with him at all. Through the years he’d hurt her, betrayed her, pushed her away and neglected her, still, she stayed. Somehow through all the tears, angry words and fights, she’d become a constant in his life, a source of his strength and weakness. The paradox was as comforting as it was unsettling. 

He covered her fingers with his hand again, relishing the softness of her skin against his scar. He doubted he’d ever tire of it. Her simple gesture remained as surprisingly intimate as it had the first time she’d innocently brushed her fingers against the rough skin. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

A bittersweet smile graced his lips as a thousand reasons rushed through his mind. Any number of them would likely earn him a reprieve from tonight’s blunder. Still, the words remained frozen on his tongue, much like the confession he’d longed blurt out for years. He nearly had several times in the past, no thanks to hormones and alcohol, but the thought of ruining their friendship had silenced him before any real damage could be done. No matter how badly it hurt, Zuko had decided the heartache was worth it just to keep her in his life. Better to keep remain only friends than to confess and risk losing both his best friend and love interest in one disastrous blunder 

While he was aware she enjoyed his company, and he hoped that perhaps there was something more there, he’d never considered she’d reciprocate his feelings…until she’d kissed him. 

The line he’d been afraid to cross was left in the dust as he’d abandoned his reservations. It wasn’t until that night, alone once again with his thoughts, that all his doubts and fears resurfaced. True she’d kissed him, but it’d been in a moment of pity, and they’d yet to talk about romantic feelings. This thing between them, whatever it was, was as fragile as a turtle-duck shell. It could crack at any moment and then he’d lose her. 

So he kept pushing her away.

He had to maintain a distance or else when she left he wouldn’t know how to go on without her. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself even as he knew it was pointless. She’d already unknowingly, unintentionally, walked right past every wall, every safeguard he’d erected through the years to protect himself. The damage was already done. She’d waltzed into his heart years ago. 

All his excuses were just that, excuses. Whether he said the words or not, when she left – if she left - the hole she left behind would be the same. The only thing silencing him was fear; fear she didn’t love him too. He knew he needed to pluck up his courage, take a bite of the silver sandwich and just confess: to tell her that he loved her and needed her; that he wanted to wake up next to her every morning and fall asleep holding her every night. 

Drawing her hand to his lips, he pressed a soft kiss into her palm. “Thank you…for waiting for me.” _Please, wait a little longer_ , he pleaded silently, hating his cowardice. When he opened his eyes, she was frowning. His stomach dropped, his gut twisting sharply. “Katara?” _Perhaps she’s tired of waiting, you idiot._

She looked away abruptly, eyes focused on the turtle-duck pond while she chewed at her lip. He knew her well enough to know she wanted to say something; her hesitation made him worry. Katara wasn’t one to usually hold back. 

He considered just blurting out what he felt, hoping it would be enough to persuade her to give him more time to be the man she deserved. As quickly as the thought came, he let it go, knowing it’d be no different than Aang forcing his feelings on her during the war. Aang’s youth, while no excuse, had at least offered an explanation for his gaffe. Zuko, however, was a mature adult, not a selfish child, and he wouldn’t do the same to Katara. She was not responsible for his feelings.

He reached out, intending to turn her head back towards him, but stopped. She’d pulled her hand from his, turned her gaze from his, severing all physical contact with him. What right did he have to touch her? It was likely she didn’t. It would make ending this haphazard mess they’d begun all the easier he supposed, still, he wanted – needed – to be able to look into her eyes one last time. “Katara,” he pleaded softly, “Please, look at me. What,” his voice cracked as she looked at him. He swallowed roughly past the sudden lump in his throat. Summoning every ounce of courage he whispered the words he was certain would be the beginning of the end. “What is it?” 

Had he not been studying her face, memorizing every detail of her certain it would be the last time he’d have the chance, he would have missed her faux pas altogether; but he didn’t. It was only a brief moment, a flicker of her eyes that strayed a little too long to be polite as she stared at his scar, but it was enough to shatter him anew.

Old fears were hard to kill. He heard his father’s cruel laughter mocking him as he cried, heard the terrified shrieks of village girls as he passed. Their taunts rang in his ears as his body went numb. He’d forgotten. She was so kind, so sweet, that’d he’d let himself forget how ugly he was, how undesirable. She was friendly, affectionateeven,because they were friends, but that didn’t mean she loved him! No one as beautiful and perfect as Katara could love a deformed monster like him. Nobody loved monsters. He was alone. He would always be alone. That had been his father’s true punishment; the scar was his guardsman, eternal loneliness was his prison.

It took him a moment to realize she been speaking to him. Zuko blinked trying to comprehend the simple statement through the deafening insecurities screaming in his mind. Dazed he looked at the moon and nodded. “Yes, it’s a full moon,” he confirmed quietly, not understanding. Bathed inmoonlightshe was even more beautiful, truly at one with her element. A sharp ache pinched at his heart, knowing she was too beautiful, too good, for the likes of him. He watched as she wrung her hands, clearly distressed. Part of him wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he wasn’t sure he’d be welcome. It would probably be best if he left. Gathering the remaining bit of his courage, Zuko prepared to say goodbye. It was time to set them both free.

“I’m abloodbender.”

Zuko frowned, thoroughly confused by her outburst. “I know.”

Katara scoffed softly, still staring at the ground. Though she wouldn’t look at him, she took his hands, her thumbs caressing his softly. She smiled softly when she heard Zuko gasp. “I had a lot of time to think tonight; about things that went wrong with Aang, things I don’t want to repeat with you. There’s things about me that Aang couldn’t accept; things about me that I couldn’t accept when I was with him.” She looked up, needing to see his eyes. “We never talked about what happened on the Southern Raiders flagship. You were afraid, of me.”

“I wasn’t-” 

“Don’t lie to me. I could feel your heartbeat Zuko.”

“Why are you bringing this up now?”

Katara’s laugh was soft and bitter. “You’re not the only broken one, Zuko. You need to know that.”

“Katara, you’re not-” 

“I was ready to kill Yon Rha. If it’d been him on that ship instead, I would have, and I would have enjoyed it. Part of me enjoys being abloodbender. I know it’s wrong and I shouldn’t, but I do. Aang ran from that part of me and asked me to do the same, but I can’t. You’re not the only monster your father made. If this relationship is going to work, you have to see the ugly side of me too. Aang never could.”

His breath caught. Slowly his brain sorted through her words, his insecurities quieting as their meanings registered. He’d told her his father had disfigured him; made him a monster. Perhaps it wasn’t his scar she’d seen but Ozai as she’d stared at him in that brief moment. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t find him repulsive after all. Hesitantly he reached out, wrapping her in his arms. He sighed in relief when she didn’t scream or push him away. “You’re not a monster,” he whispered, repeating her words back to her, still shocked she could ever believe otherwise. She hadn't rejected him. He'd let his own insecurities get in the way, again, and had almost ruined everything.

“How can you say that?”

He smiled, despite himself, tears brimming in his eyes as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. It was ironic how many of their conversations came full circle. “Because I know you, Katara.” 

Pressing her body closer to his, she wrapped her arms around him. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe she was just feeling vulnerable from her emotional turmoil, but she needed him tonight. Resting her head against his chest she listened to the steady thumping of his heart.

“See? Not afraid.”

She smiled as Zuko’s low whisper vibrated against her chest, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against her back. She wondered if this is how Zuko felt when she soothed him. Despite having just exposed the darkest secret in her soul, despite the raw pain that ebbed just beneath her skin, in his arms she felt safe. There’d been no judgments, no demands, just simple acceptance; the same she’d always given to others. It was liberating. 

“Are you still cold?” 

Katara grinned. Even without him actively channeling his bending, the man radiated heat. She snuggled closer, enjoying the pleasant sensation of being cocooned in Zuko’s warmth. “Not anymore.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Avatar the Last Airbender copyright Dante Dimartino, Brian Konietzko and Nickelodeon Studios.


End file.
